voked' many to die out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers. Nay, Seneca adds, niceness and satiety: 'Cogita quamdiu eadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum fortis, aut miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest." A man would die, though he were neither valiant nor miserable, only upon a weariness to do the same thing so oft over and over.' It is no less worthy to observe, how little alteration in good spirits the approaches of death make; for they appear to be the same men till the last instant. Augustus Cæsar died in a compliment: 'Livia, conjugii nostri memor vive, et vale." Tiberius in dissimulation, as Tacitus saith of him, 'Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio, deserebant:" Vespasian in a jest sitting upon the stool, 'Ut puto Deus fio:' Galba with a sentence, ‘Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani," holding forth his neck: Septimus Severus in dispatch, Adeste, si quid mihi restat agendum," and the like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too much cost upon death, and by their great preparations made it appear more fearful. Better, saith he, 'qui finem vitæ extremum inter munera ponat naturæ.” It is as natural to die as to be born; and to a little infant, perhaps, the one is as painful as the other. He that dies in an earnest pursuit is like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt; and therefore a mind fixed and bent upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolours of death: Qut, above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle is, 'Nunc dimittis," when a man hath obtained worthy ends and expectations. Death hath this also, that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy: Extinctus amabitur idem.'10

1 Provoke. To exite; to move (to exertion or feeling of any kind, not as now, merely to anger). Your zeal hath provoked very many.'—2 Cor. ix. 2. 2 Ad Lucil. 77.

3 Livia mindful of our wedlock, live, and farewell.'-Suetonius, Aug. Vit. c. 100. Ilis powers and bodily strength had abandoned Tiberius, but not his dissimulation.'-Annal, vi. 50.

5 Strike, if it be for the benefit of the Roman people.'-Tacit. Hist. i. 41.

Hasten, if anything remains for me to do.'-Dio Cas. 76, ad fin.

7'Ile who accounts the close of life among the boons of nature.'—Juv. Sat. x. 357.

8 Dolours. Pains.

'He drew the dolours from the wounded part.'-Pope's Homer. Now lettest thou thy servant depart.-Luke ii. 29.

10 The same man shall be beloved when dead,

'There is no passion in the mind of man so weak but it mates and masters the fear of death.'

Of all the instances that can be given of recklessness of life, there is none that comes near that of the workmen employed in what is called dry-pointing; the grinding of needles and of table-forks. The fine steel-dust which they breathe brings on a painful disease of which they are almost sure to die before forty. And yet not only are men tempted by high wages to engage in this employment, but they resist to the utmost all the contrivances devised for diminishing the danger; through fear that this would cause more workmen to offer themselves, and thus lower wages!

The case of sailors, soldiers, miners, and others who engage in hazardous employments, is nothing in comparison of this; because people of a sanguine temper hope to escape the dangers. But the dry-pointers have to encounter, not the risk, but the certainty, of an early and painful death. The thing would seem incredible, if it were not so fully attested. All this proves that avarice overcomes the fear of death. And so may vanity: witness the many women who wear tight dresses, and will even employ washes for the complexion which they know to be highly dangerous and even destructive to their health.

'Certainly the contemplation of death, as the wages of sin and

the passage to another world, is holy and religious.*

It is when considered as the passage to another world that the contemplation of death becomes holy and religious ;—that is, calculated to promote a state of preparedness for our setting out on this great voyage,-our departure from this world to enter the other. It is manifest that those who are engrossed with the things that pertain to this life alone; who are devoted to worldly pleasure, to worldly gain, honour, or power, are certainly not preparing themselves for the passage into another: while it is equally manifest that the change of heart, of desires, wishes, tastes, thoughts, dispositions, which constitutes a meetness for entrance into a happy, holy, heavenly state,—the hope of which can indeed 'mate and master the fear of death,'must take place here on earth; not after death.

There is a remarkable phenomenon connected with insect life which has often occurred to my mind while meditating on the subject of preparedness for a future state, as presenting a curious analogy.

Most persons know that every butterfly (the Greek name for which, it is remarkable, is the same that signifies also the Soul,Psyche) comes from a grub or caterpillar; in the language of naturalists called a larva. The last name (which signifies literally a mask) was introduced by Linnæus, because the caterpillar is a kind of outward covering, or disguise, of the future butterfly within. For, it has been ascertained by curious microscopic examination, that a distinct butterfly, only undeveloped and not full-grown, is contained within the body of the caterpillar; that this latter has its own organs of digestion, respiration, &c., suitable to its larva-life, quite distinct from, and independent of, the future butterfly which it encloses. When the proper period arrives, and the life of the insect, in this its first stage, is to close, it becomes what is called a pupa, enclosed in a chrysalis or cocoon (often composed of silk; as is that of the silkworm which supplies us that important article,) and lies torpid for a time within this natural coffin, from which it issues, at the proper period, as a perfect butterfly.

But sometimes this process is marred. There is a numerous

tribe of insects well known to naturalists, called Ichneumonflies; which in their larva-state are parasitical; that is, inhabit, and feed on, other larvæ. The ichneumon-fly, being provided with a long sharp sting, which is in fact an ovipositor (egglayer,) pierces with this the body of a caterpillar in several places, and deposits her eggs, which are there hatched, and feed, as grubs (larvæ) on the inward parts of their victim. A most wonderful circumstance connected with this process is, that a caterpillar which has been thus attacked goes on feeding, and apparently thriving quite as well, during the whole of its larva-life, as those that have escaped. For, by a wonderful provision of instinct, the ichneumon-grubs within do not injure any of the organs of the larva, but feed only on the future butterfly enclosed within it. And consequently, it is hardly possible to distinguish a caterpillar which has these enemies within it from those that are untouched.-But when the period arrives for the close of the larva-life, the difference appears. You may often observe the common cabbage-caterpillars retiring, to undergo their change, into some sheltered spot,—such as the walls of a summer-house; and some of them-those that have escaped the parasites, assuming the pupa-state, from which they emerge, butterflies. Of the unfortunate caterpillar that has been preyed upon, nothing remains but an empty skin. The hidden butterfly has been secretly consumed.

Now is there not something analogous to this wonderful phenomenon, in the condition of some of our race?—may not a man have a kind of secret enemy within his own bosom, destroying his soul,—Psyche,—though without interfering with his well-being during the present stage of his existence; and whose presence may never be detected till the time arrives when the last great change should take place?

‘Death hath this also, that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy.'

Bacon might have added, that the generosity extended to the departed is sometimes carried rather to an extreme. To abstain from censure of them is fair enough. But to make an ostentatious parade of the supposed admirable qualities of persons who attracted no notice in their life-time, and again (which is much more common,) to publish laudatory biographies

(to say nothing of raising subscriptions for monumental testimonials) of persons who did attract notice in a disreputable way, and respecting whom it would have been the kindest thing to let them be forgotten, this is surely going a little too far.

But private friends and partizans are tempted to pursue this course by the confidence that no one will come forward to contradict them: according to the lines of Swift,—

'De mortuis nil nisi bonum;

'When scoundrels die, let all bemoan 'em.'

Then, again, there are some who bestow eulogisms that are really just on persons whom they had always been accustomed to revile, calumniate, thwart, and persecute on every occasion; and this they seem to regard as establishing their own character for eminent generosity. Nor are they usually mistaken in their calculation; for if not absolutely commended for their magnanimous moderation, they usually escape, at least, the well-deserved reproach for not having done justice, during his life, to the object of their posthumous praises, for having been occupied in opposing and insulting one who-by their own showing-deserved quite contrary treatment.

It may fairly be suspected that the one circumstance respecting him which they secretly dwell on with the most satisfaction, though they do not mention it, is that he is dead; and that they delight in bestowing their posthumous honours on him, chiefly because they are posthumous; according to the concluding couplet in the Verses on the Death of Dean Swift :—

'And since you dread no further lashes,

Methinks you may forgive his ashes.'

But the Public is wonderfully tolerant of any persons who will but, in any way, speak favourably of the dead, even when by so doing they pronounce their own condemnation.

Sometimes, however, the opposite fault is committed. Strong party feeling will lead zealous partizans to misrepresent the conduct and character of the deceased, or to ignore (according to the modern phrase) some of the most remarkable things done by him."

But then they generally put in for the praise of generosity by eulogizing some very insignificant acts, and thus 'damn with faint praise.'

1See an instance of this alluded to in the Remains of Bishop Copleston. pp. 89-93.